


A Knock Sounded

by bumsandbruises



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Blue Eyes, Green Eyes, Harry is also a writer, Literary References & Allusions, Louis is his neighbor, M/M, asks for a cup of sugar, harry is a stalker, simon is harrys boss, zayn is a writer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-10-10
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:36:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4971913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumsandbruises/pseuds/bumsandbruises
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU where Harry is an author, Louis is his neighbor, and Harry writes Louis into his new novel as the main character.</p><p>or</p><p>Louis asks for a cup of sugar, and Harry is starstruck by the character right in front of him.</p><p>ps I reference quite a few other musical names and book characters. They aren't mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knock Sounded

**Author's Note:**

> So it's short and sweet. It's kinda rushed but I didn't want it to be long. Enjoy!! xx

Harry was stuck.

He had less than a month to come up with the rough draft for a new novel, or else he would be fired. It hadn't been that long since his last piece of work, only a year and a half, but Simon was always on his arse with deadlines. 

It's not that writing was hard, Harry loved to write, and it came to him naturally.

It's that writing well was hard.

Every new idea he had was crap. He'd come up with something cliche and trite. He'd come up with the classic Romeo and Juliet, forbidden love story or the over-used boy meets girl, drama-filled, happily ever after story people were exhausted of.

He needed something new, something that brought emotions to the surface. He wanted tear-jerking, heart-wrenching material. 

And he wouldn't turn in a rough draft of anything but that.

He knew it seemed a bit unreasonable. He could lose his place at the company, but he didn't care. It would be wrong to give something that wasn't his very best.

So that's what Harry did.

***

It had been three days, and Harry still couldn't think of anything. He had tried listening to his music, a collection of Elvis, Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, the Beatles, etc. He had tried going for walks, something that usually helps to get his creative juices flowing. He had people-watched in the park. He had looked up random photographs online, just trying to think of a story. Nothing was good enough. Nothing was good enough to fit his high standards.

It was one of those days where Harry blared music from his speakers, trying to drown out all of his thoughts and create something new. It was terribly frustrating, if he was honest. Which Harry usually was. 

He couldn't think of anything at all.

Suddenly, a knock sounded at the door, intruding in on his self-pitying thoughts.

Harry got up from his place on his sofa, surrounded by crumpled up pieces of paper, dried ink pens, and a clutter of notebooks, all spiral-bound of course. He wasn't wearing a shirt, just his joggers, but he didn't care. It was probably just Zayn coming over to see if he wanted to go for coffee and take a break for a while. Zayn had been trying to use that tactic for a while seeing as how it worked the last time Harry wrote a novel, but it wasn't working this time and Harry had tried to explain that to him.

He sighed as he opened the door. "Listen, Z, I know you mean well but-"

He was cut off by someone who was definitely not Zayn standing in front of his door. Harry had been looking down at the floor when he opened the door, so he let his eyes trail from the person's feet to his face. All Harry could think about was his thick, gorgeous thighs showcased beautifully in his yoga pants, his muscular arms showing from his sleeveless t-shirt, his cute tummy poking out just enough to be noticed. Harry definitely went wild over how the boy was wearing yoga pants, of all the options in the world.

That is, until he saw the lad's eyes. They were a shocking, cerulean blue, framed by long eyelashes, setting wonderfully on top of his defined cheekbones.

This boy was an anomaly. No normal person was this beautiful. It simply wasn't possible. Harry would know; he had been people-watching ever since he was a kid. 

This boy was a character.

That was when the epiphany struck him.

Harry didn't realize he was staring, too far away in his story, until the other lad cleared his throat.

"Oh, sorry about that- I mean, you're just gorgeous-and wait a second, I didn't mean that-not that you're not gorgeous-it's just weird if I-and I should just stop talking right now, shouldn't I?" Harry stuttered. 

A smile pulled onto the other boy's face as he silently chuckled. "I'm Louis. I live in the flat across the hall." He pointed to the door behind him with his thumb before sticking his hand out for Harry to shake.

Harry took it. "I'm Harry, Harry Styles. I don't usually get visitors, sorry."

Louis waved it off, the grin still plastered on his face. "Me neither. I just came over to ask for a cup of sugar, if you've got one? I'm making cookies for my baby sisters coming over today, and I promised I'd make them cookies if they promised to be good." He winked.

Harry was starstruck. This was better than meeting Harry Potter or Magnus Bane.

"Um yeah, I can check, if you'd like." Louis nodded, very much wanting him to check. He'd hate to disappoint the twins. "You can come in, if you want. I'll just be a mo."

Harry left the door open as he went into the kitchen, searching for the cup of sugar. He didn't usually use sugar or eat things with sugar in them, opting for healthier options, but he remembered his mum leaving some behind the last time she came over and cooked delicious cup cakes for Harry's birthday. 

He found almost a full bag in the back of his pantry, and after checking the expiration date, he brought it out to Louis, who had decided to make himself comfy on Harry's sofa while he waited. Louis was reading the sheet Harry had just been finishing up when Louis knocked. He set it down when Harry walked back in. 

"Found some for you." Harry presented it to Louis, who was still sitting.

"Aha, thank you, mate. I must say though, your couch is way too comfy for your own good." He teased.

"I got it just for that purpose actually. I spend way too much time on it for it to be uncomfortable."

Louis nodded to his unfinished writing he had just read. "You write, yeah?" When Harry nodded, he continued. "You're pretty good, if I say so myself."

Harry blushed a bit. "Not really, I've been stuck for quite some time, but I've got a deadline coming up."

"That sucks, mate."

Harry nodded.

"Well, thanks for letting me use this. Do you want me to bring the bag back over when I'm done or a different time? Don't wanna bother you."

"Anytime you like." Harry stood up when Louis got up and walked him to the door.

"It was really nice meeting you, by the way. You're nice." Louis turned as he was walking out the door and into the hall. When he saw Harry open his mouth to reply, he held his hand up. "I already know what you're going to say, and yes, I know I'm gorgeous." He winked before heading into his flat, giving Harry a nice view of how well Louis filled out those yoga pants.

Harry smiled and shook his head fondly as he shut the door. It was maybe two minutes later that another knock sounded at the door and Harry opened it up to a sheepish-looking Louis.

Harry raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have a measuring cup I could borrow, too?"

***

Harry was not stuck anymore.

If anything, he was writing more than ever. It was good stuff, too. 

Sure, it meant that there were many sleepless nights and excessive amounts of coffee involved, but these were Harry's favorite moments. The moments where he felt like his life actually meant something. These moments lead to other people's smiles and laughter, and that made Harry smile.

He and Louis had been hanging out, too. Harry wouldn't admit it, or maybe he would since he was usually honest, but that was the reason his writing had flourished.

Louis was now his character. At first, he didn't mean it to happen, but it did. He didn't mean to go all creepy and write hundreds of pages about Louis, but once he started, he couldn't stop. After a while, there had been pages, maps, drawings, all accumulating to Harry's new novel. It was weird, Harry admitted that, but it was also perfect. The story was fresh and new. It was different and beautiful. It was centered around a yoga pants-wearing, intrusive, boy who barged into Harry's life. And Harry couldn't be more thankful.

And Harry turned out to be even more grateful when their new friendship started budding into a romance. It didn't hurt that Louis' sisters loved him when they insisted on coming over to return Harry's sugar. It also didn't hurt that Harry wasn't bad looking himself, and he was even quite fit, if Harry could trust Zayn's honor. But nothing made Harry happier than when, while watching America's Next Top Model which is something Harry likes to do, Louis paused the television and leaned over and kissed him. Sparks didn't fly and fireworks didn't shoot off in reality, but they definitely did in Harry's novel.

***

It was two days before his rough draft was due, and Harry was so close to being done. He was finishing up the last chapter before the epilogue when Louis knocked on the door. Harry opened up and pressed a kiss on his cheek before letting him in. Louis went over to the couch and plopped down, accidentally disrupting Harry's pile of papers. Harry went into the kitchen to get Louis' tea and his coffee. When he got back into the room, Louis was slack-jawed, reading the work Harry was sending in within the next two days. 

Harry had meant to tell Louis about it, but it just never came up. Well, Harry didn't let it come up. Whenever Louis asked about his writing, Harry said "Going great" and then changed the subject. He didn't want Louis to think he was a stalker. It's just, he kind of was. But just with Louis. As if that was any better.

"What's this?" Louis asked in a small voice. 

Harry was frozen, the two mugs in his hand. He didn't know what to do.

"Harry? What's this that I'm reading?" Louis asked again.

"Um, um, I don't know." 

Louis snorted. "Harry this is definitely your handwriting. It's sitting on your couch. You wrote it. So what is it?"

Louis' voice had gotten more of an edge to it.

"It's-uh-it's um, a story I've written."

"With me in it?"

Harry nodded.

"And you opted to just not tell me about it? Go ahead and publish it so the whole world can see it, and you don't even tell me about it?" Louis' voice raised.

"I didn't mean to, I swear! It's just that first day you came and my mind wouldn't stop turning, and it was just about you!" Harry tried to explain.

"And you didn't tell me about it because?" Louis pressed on.

It took some serious, internal, confidence-building, but Harry finally said it out loud. "I didn't want you to think I was weird or a stalker or anything. This has never happened to me before."

"Yeah, well me neither." Louis got up.

"Where are you going?"

"Where do you think I'm going? I can't not be able to trust my boyfriend. You were practically showing the entire world a naked version of me. I can't do that." Louis was walking towards the door.

"But-but I didn't send it in yet! No one but me has read it, I swear!" Harry tried to stop him.

"That's not the point, Hazza." Louis' voice softened around the nickname. "You were going to send it in without even giving me a heads up."

"I-I'm sorry, Lou. Please, don't go."

Louis was opening the door. "I need some time, love." 

That wasn't a break up. "Okay, okay. You'll let me know?" Harry asked, with the small voice this time.

"I'll let you know." The door shut behind him.

***

The thing about spending almost all of your time with one person is that you get attached to them. Whether it's for a few days, a week, a month, or a year. You start to do everything in sync with them. You start to revolve around them.

But when they leave, you're breathless. Suddenly, they're your every thought.

You can't wash your hands with the same soap because that's the soap they used.

You can't drink coffee out of the same mug because that was the mug they drank their tea out of.

You can't wear the same clothes because those were the clothes you wore when you were together.

You can't even brush your hair because they loved to absentmindedly play with your curls while watching the telly.

It had only been a day. Harry had only been alone for twenty four hours. And it was torture. He had even changed up the ending to his novel. He had changed it from the happily ever after to the equivalent of being hit by a train.

Because that's what Harry felt like.

He wasn't going to send it in, though. He had already betrayed Louis' trust with his creepy antics. He wasn't going to destroy it by selling it for money.

He didn't know what he was going to do though. He was hooked on this book, and he didn't want to write another one. He was going to get fired.

A knock sounded at his door. Harry practically ran to it.

When he opened it, Louis was standing there in one of Harry's sweaters and his yoga pants. He had tear stained cheeks and puffy eyes and his hair was unkempt, but he had never looked more beautiful.

"Publish it." Those were the first words to come out of Louis' mouth. 

"What?" Harry was flabbergasted.

"Publish your novel. Send it in. Do whatever you need to do. I don't even need to read anymore. You're a great writer, and you shouldn't get fired forgetting inspired by your gorgeous boyfriend."

"Boyfriend? Like, we're still...?" He trailed off as Louis nodded.

A grin swept onto his face as the same one ghosted over Louis'. Harry pulled him into his flat, and he tackled him into a hug, tucking his face into the crook of Louis' neck.

Louis laughed at Harry's sweet actions and put his arms around him, gently rubbing his back.

"I missed you." Harry whispered.

"It was only like, a day, love." Louis teased.

Harry huffed. "But it felt like forever." He whined.

Louis laughed softly. "I know, love. I missed you, too."


End file.
